BZRK (BZRK 1)

The driver stepped out, leaving the meter running. Seconds later the door of the cab opened and a girl slid into the seat beside Noah. She was an odd creature, dressed in a style that might be called post-Goth or thrift-shop chic. She had a tattoo of dripping flames beneath one eye. Her features were unrefined, like any girl Noah might see back in his own neighborhood. Somehow he’d expected all New York girls to be models.

“This cab is taken,” Noah said. “We haven’t stopped, the driver just—”

“Yeah, the driver took a hundy to let me in. All set up in advance, blue eyes. Speaking of which, you have a little schmutz on your eye.” She peered closely at him, reached across the seat, and with one finger appeared to wipe something from the corner of his eye.

“A hundy?”

“A C-note. A hundred-dollar bill. A hundy.” She waited, obviously expecting something more. “You’re not going to ask what schmutz is?”

“I guessed it was crumbs or something.”

“Good guess, English Boy.”

Noah frowned. She didn’t seem the least bit threatening, but she was definitely unsettling, and he supposed, given that she was somewhat provocatively dressed and very forward, that she might be a prostitute. “Excuse my asking, but are you a tart?”

“You mean a hooker? Nah. Although … if I was, what would you pay?” She had a grin that was more on one side of her mouth than the other and bordered on crazy. And when she laughed it was a sound like, “Heh-heh.” Not mirthful, more like a verbal placeholder for a real laugh.

Noah did not have an answer, and this widened the girl’s grin.

“Relax, English. I’m all up in your eyeball checking you out. Looking for bugs, looking for bugs. You’re probably safe enough, you’ve been watched since the other day, and you’ll get the full going-over later. This is just a sort of quick peek.”

“I’m completely lost,” Noah said.

The driver came back, carefully avoided looking at the girl, and the cab pulled away from the curb. The girl carefully scanned the sidewalk and the empty street with a professional eye.

“You only think you’re lost, English.” Again, the sardonic nonlaugh. “Pretty soon you’ll be so lost you won’t even know what universe you’re in.”

Sadie squinted against the harsh light.

“Vincent?” she asked. The voice didn’t sound quite right to be him. But neither was it Renfield. It sounded female, but low enough maybe to be a boy.

“I’m going to ask you to disrobe. And to place all of your clothing in the wall slot on your right. Then we will ask you to stand still while we run a series of scans.”

“Vincent already checked me out. He put a biot on me,” Sadie said.

“He also withdrew that biot, and it’s been several days.”

The voice was irritatingly reasonable. She kind of hated it. She shrugged and took off her scarf, coat, and boots. She pushed them through the slot.

“How far are we going here, disembodied voice?”

“Everything, please.”

“I’d better not find pictures on the Internet, disembodied voice,” Sadie muttered.

“You may call me Ophelia,” the voice said.

“You’re a girl?”

“I am,” Ophelia answered. “I’ll turn the voice masking off.” Then she said, “Is that better?”

The voice was no longer impersonal. It was definitely female. “Yes, actually. I’m not modest, but the light in here is very unflattering.”

“I’m beginning the scans now,” Ophelia said. “You’ll see different colors of light. You’ll hear various sounds, some a bit loud. Just stand where you are.”

“Okay, Ophelia.”

It lasted longer than she expected. Long enough to become boring. And long enough for her to become resentful.